


Everyone wants to be saved

by psychomachia



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Gen, happier endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28214415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/pseuds/psychomachia
Summary: In some universes, Kariya's life isn't complete suffering.Just mostly.
Relationships: past Matou Kariya/Tohsaka Aoi, referenced Matou Kariya/Tohsaka Tokiomi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Everyone wants to be saved

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tenser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenser/gifts).



### in a foreign town

“Matou?” the voice says.

It's a deep voice, Kariya thinks, surprise clear in his intonation, and he sets his glass on the bar, turns to look at the speaker.

He's an attractive man, long-haired, nicely dressed, and seemingly very out of place in this remote village. Probably some rich tourist revisiting the glory days of his youth, when he backpacked for six months to piss off his parents until they dragged him back home to take over the family business.

Kariya should know - he could have been one of them.

Still, Kariya's far from home, too (not far enough, never far enough), so he's not going to judge him for wanting some good memories. Maybe he's tougher than he looks to make it all the way up here.

He immediately revises that opinion when the man trips and almost falls on him. For such a dignified looking figure, he's shockingly clumsy.

“It's just--” the man says, “someone called you Matou and I thought--” He shuts his mouth, bows his head. “I apologize,” he says. “My name is Lord El-Melloi II. I know your brother from the war.”

Kariya stiffens, because he's seen a number of battlefields, witnessed the tragedies left behind, and yet, he's certain he knows exactly what war this man is talking about. After all, didn't he learn that it's the only thing his father ever cared about. 

“You probably have me mistaken for someone else.” He makes sure to keep his voice steady. 

The man—El-Melloi--looks at him with clear, calm eyes. “I could be,” he says. “But I did my research and I know that Byakuya Matou, summoner of Berserker, had a brother named Kariya who left the family to become a photographer and hasn't been around for ten years. He also had some pictures published in National Geographic and it's not hard to trace his steps after that.”

At that, El-Melloi smiles, and it's irritatingly sweet, making him look years younger, like a boy. “My friend really liked the photos you took in those ruins in Greece,” he says, his voice becoming wistful. “He said you captured its beauty very well.”

He could argue with El-Melloi, brush him off, tell him he's wrong, he's a fool, and push him away, send this ignorant dilettante home. But the man's eyes are familiar to him – he's seen rejection enough in the mirror to know what someone fed on it looks like. They're hungry.

Always.

“I had a brother,” Kariya says eventually. “And if you know that, then you know that he inherited everything Zouken values, not me.”

El-Melloi's smile fades, his face hardening. There are lines that cut through his face now, ones that mark him as someone who's lived through their fair share of pain. He looks at his own sometimes, traces scars that can be seen and pushes down ones inside that can't. “You're lucky,” El-Melloi says. “It may not seem that way, but you are.”

“I take it he didn't win,” Kariya says. “Or is that supposed to be a surprise?”

“No one won,” El-Melloi answers. “It was all a big shitshow.”

Kariya picks up his beer, drains the dregs of it. He's sure he knows what's coming next. “So the next thing you're going to tell me is that he died back then, right?”

Kariya dimly thinks he should probably be upset about that. But the thing about Zouken is that he drains those kinds of things from you, removes compassion and love and kindness, and puts in its place a brother who mocks you for your lack of talent, tells you it doesn't matter who you're with because you'll always be a loser, and cries to you one night in a drunken stupor that he doesn't want this after all if this is what it means, you don't understand what you have to go through to be worthy of Father.

He should care. But if Byakuya's dead, it's not a tragedy. It's a mercy. And in any event, it would have been years ago. Any funeral or service Zouken might have dredged up is long over.

“I don't know,” El-Melloi says thoughtfully. “We never confirmed that.”

“Well, it doesn't matter,” Kariya says. “If you're here to ask me if I'm participating in the War, the answer is obviously no. And unless my brother had kids--”

He stops. “Please tell me he didn't have kids.”

“Well, he had one,” El-Melloi says. “But he reportedly doesn't have any talent.”

“Great. Perfect. Fucking fantastic,” Kariya says, standing up abruptly. “The Matou line will die out finally and Zouken can wither away from the shame of it all. So in the next century or two when the next Grail War hits--”

El-Melloi holds up a hand and the look on his face is patient but firm, as if he were quieting an unruly student. “The Grail War's already began,” he says. “Call it an error, but it's started again.”

“Fuck.”

“Quite.” El-Melloi's smile is tight. “And as much as I wanted to, it appears I'm not chosen this time. But I have received some information from one of my students who is participating and as irritating as she can be, she's not wrong about this. The Matou aren't sitting this one out.”

Kariya's stomach lurches. He thinks he's going to be sick. “Who—” he barely manages to get out. “Who would--”

El-Melloi sets a photo on the bar. There's a solemn girl in the photo, her features familiar to Kariya's discerning eye. He whips his head up.

El-Melloi's smile is glacial at this point. “I believe you're familiar with her mother, Aoi.”

### secret maneuvers

The old man's eyes aren't quite as dismissive as he expects them to be and Kariya considers that to be a miracle, in and of itself.

“I know your father,” he says calmly, templing his fingers in front of him. “We worked together.”

That begs far more questions than it answers, but Kariya has the feeling that even trying to ask is a futile action. “Yes,” he says, because the old man's still waiting, still watching him.

“But that was a long time ago. A very long time ago.”

Kariya doesn't say anything, just nods.

“So why would a Matou come to me, his family's enemies, knowing that when it comes to the Grail, we would gladly burn each other to the ground and scatter the ashes to the wind?” Jubstacheit von Einzbern's face betrays no emotion – it could be rage, smugness, any number of things that will lead to Kariya being tossed out, and yet Kariya thinks, no, he's not going to do that.

He's listening.

“You saw why,” Kariya answers. “My reason is sleeping in one of your bedrooms,” he says.

Sakura is still exhausted from their travels, but even if she wasn't, they'd probably barely notice her being there. She's too quiet, too meek, too willing to bow her head and follow directions without question.

Kariya could have been that too, if he hadn't had something to fight for. Everything else he let go – his family, his friends, Aoi, but--

If he hadn't known, he could have done nothing.

If he hadn't known, he would have ran away alone, spent years drifting place to place, staying out of contact with anyone who ever knew him.

If he hadn't known...

But he had and so he had to do something.

“For Sakura,” he says and he doesn't bother to hide his fear, his exhaustion, his helplessness. “For Sakura, I would do anything.”

The von Einzbern head nods. “I see that,” he says. He closes his eyes.

Kariya waits. Either Jubstacheit will grant him sanctuary, or he won't. If he doesn't... well, Kariya doesn't think the von Einzbern family will kill a child, especially one they can use as a bargaining chip, and his life is a fair exchange to keep Sakura safe.

He has no illusions about the deal he's making. But this devil has to be better than the one he knows.

A few minutes later, Jubstacheit opens his eyes. They catch Kariya and he feels like bowing to the pressure, the man's stare filled with weight he can only begin to comprehend.

“You may be useful,” the old man says. “We had been planning on hiring an outside, but it occurs to me that someone unaccustomed to the ways of the older families may prove to be a hindrance rather than a boon. At least you will be discreet and recognize the gravity of what we do.”

“Yes,” Kariya says. “I will follow your orders,” he says. “But may I ask something of you in return?”

“I had suspected you might,” Jubstacheit answers. “And I also believe I can guess the condition of your acquiescence. We will not involve your niece in the War.”

Kariya almost sobs in relief. “Thank you,” he says.

“You do not need to thank me.” The old man's eyes are knowing, cold. “We have far better tools to accomplish our goals than a frail child.”

Kariya suspects he'll come to know exactly what those tools are—and he won't care. Sakura is safe. That's all that matters.

Jubstacheit motions and one of the maids, quiet and pale, comes out of the shadows. She sets two cups on the table, pours tea into both.

“My favorite,” Jubstacheit says. “Early Autumn Darjeeling.” He inclines his head. “Let us toast to our pact.”

Kariya picks up the tea, raises it to Jubstacheit. “May our alliance be fruitful.”

“Yes." Justabcheit sips his tea and there's a curious light in his hard eyes now, a look that sends shivers down Kariya's spine, because it isn't appraising or disdainful... it's pleased. 

“I believe this will be a most profitable one indeed.”

### if you leave

The door swings wide open.

Kariya would chalk it up to another delightful facet of the squalid room he's currently renting, except the light flicks on and Tohsaka's sitting there in the chair, looking cross and definitely above it all.

It's not the first time Kariya's seen that look. He's seen it directed at him since he was a teenager and first ran into Tohsaka, coolly eyeing him like he was a worm beneath his shoes. That changed into real contempt, then hatred, then grudging tolerance, then, well...

There's a reason she was able to track him down so quickly.

“You shouldn't have come,” Kariya says. “I'm not going to be here that long anyhow.”

Tohsaka wrinkles her nose. “I should hope not,” she replies. “This place is filthy.”

“Tohsaka.” Kariya slumps down onto the bed, one of its springs digging into his leg. “I'm not going back.”

“Yes,” she says, and her eyes fix on his figure. “I think you've made that perfectly clear in our numerous conversations on the matter. Even if you won't tell me why that is--”

“I can't,” he says helplessly, and his shoulders droop even more. “I--” His throat seizes as he imagines explaining just how his family gets its magic, what it does to the people who enter, how his father—how Zouken.

He doesn't realize he's choking until there's a warm hand on his back and Tohsaka is carefully rubbing circles into it, her fingers finding knots and loosening them until everything unravels, falls apart, and he thinks, oh, shit, I'm crying. I shouldn't do that.

“It's all right, Kariya,” she whispers. “Keep your secrets if you must. But you must know that if you run, your father will find another way.”

Kariya raise his head, knowing he must look absolutely terrible in his hooded sweatshirt, matted hair, red-rimmed eyes compared to her impeccable, put-together everything that is Tohsaka Tomiko. It's one of the things he hates about her, how she can wear the mantle of an heir as comfortable as a designer suit.

Aoi used to tease him about that.

_“Really?” she said. “I like her. I think she's a very smart woman.”_

_“It's too bad you're already getting married,” Kariya muttered. “Or I'd suggest you marry her if you like her so much.”_

_Aoi's answering laugh was sparkling, lovely, and it made Kariya ache. But he had made his decision and anyhow, the Trambelio family were supposed to be relatively sane for wizards, even if Aoi was going to be the sixth wife and what she was thinking, surely there had to be a better choice than that?_

_Kariya wished he could be that choice. But he learned long ago that his wishes were just like his rebellions – futile things that went nowhere but back to Zouken's door._

It was hard to speak, but Kariya made himself push out the words, get the broken syllables through his bloody mouth. “He can't make my brother do it,” he said. “And my brother's child--”

Tohsaka's hand stops moving on his back, goes up to his shoulder and taps it firmly. “You're not a fool, Kariya,” she says, her voice still quiet but piercing. “If you won't be an heir, he'll make one. There are plenty of wizarding families that have children they don't need. He'll just take one of those—”

And now Kariya really does feel sick, the room spinning because how he had he not thought of that, how had it taken Tohsaka pointing out the obvious, that if Zouken couldn't get an heir by blood with any sort of talent, he'd get them a different way.

His father had never given up.

Unlike Kariya.

“He can't,” Kariya says, resting his burning head against the stained wall. “I'll tell them what he does to the children. What he'll do to--”

“Will you?” Tohsaka shakes her head. “You won't even tell me all the details and I'd like to think that we've gotten close enough that you've told me more than any other living soul.”

“It's different,” Kariya says weakly. “I mean, we're rivals. We're enemies. We're--”

“Fucking.”

Kariya's mouth snaps shut.

“More than once,” Tohsaka adds. “And unlike the rest of the connections my family has, I've never seen them naked.”

“I knew it was a mistake to sleep with you,” Kariya mutters.

“And yet you keep doing it.” Tohsaka is also standing now, her heels putting her on even standing with Kariya. “So I'd like to think that means something to you. Or is this another one of your father's games?”

Kariya's head whips up so fast he smacks it into the wall. “I didn't do it because of him,” he protests. “I did it because I--”

Tohsaka's eyebrows raise, and he knows that smug look on her face is because she both knocked him out of his usual spiral downwards into shame and doubt, and because she knows how the sentence ends.

“Fine,” he says. “But I can't go back.” He knows he's a pitiful figure, a quivering mess, but he has to convince her and maybe Tohsaka can discreetly let people know to turn Zouken down if he comes calling or not to even offer in the first place--

“You don't have to,” Tohsaka says, cool and collected again. “Stay with me. It'll keep him off his game, wondering if I'm manipulating you or if you've somehow managed to make me take pity on you. Either way, he'll have a harder time adapting to an alliance.”

Kariya tries to wrap his brain around that. “Are you...” It can't be. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

Tohsaka's smile is genuine and terrifying. “Of course, darling,” she says. “After all, I want to give our child two parents.”

### rabble-rousers

Kariya walks back into the parlor, sits down at the table.

There's already a steaming pot of tea there, and he can smell garlic wafting from the kitchen. The broken wine bottles scattered about have already been neatly picked up, the remnants swept away like everything else. What's left is clean and tidy and bloodless.

It's a surprise.

He leans against his chair, closes his eyes. He's exhausted, but also exhilarated from the day's events. His circuits are still recovering from over-usage, but he knows that they're not burnt, not destroyed like the El-Melloi head.

He starts to laugh, his voice coming out harsh, unused to happiness and pleasure in the simple things. But here it is. Everything he wants at his fingertips.

“Something funny, master?” his servant asks says, balancing a tray as the door swings open. For someone that looks like such a delinquent, Kariya thinks, he's surprisingly proficient with domestic tasks.

Maybe he'll ask him to make some cookies for the girls, show how much he cares for them.

“Just thinking,” Kariya answers. “It's going to be hard explaining to the Church or anyone else what happened.”

Archer shrugs. “I wouldn't worry about it. Everyone else is still concerned with Caster and Kirei--”

The footsteps are slow, heavy, as they come up the stairs.

“Speak of the devil,” Archer says and grins as the door opens. “Have you done your duty?” He peers closely at Kotomine's face. “You must have because you look pleased.”

Kotomine is expressionless as always, but his servant is surprisingly perceptive at reading the priest, something he refuses to explain alongside his name, his weapons, or his ability to make omurice with a smiley face. “It is finished,” Kotomine says gravely and nods at Kariya. “I will let my father know the change in circumstances.”

“You do that,” Archer replies and waits for the door to shut. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “no matter how much time passes or where I end up, I really hate that guy.”

“I don't see why you brought him here in the first place.” Kariya takes a sip of his tea. “He's an eliminated master. He should have no more role in the war.”

“Well, that's the thing about Kirei,” Archer says. “Just when you think he's out, he pops right back in again. At least this time, he's mostly on his good behavior.”

Kariya narrows his eyes. “You really need to explain to me just how you know all of this.”

“And you could use up a command seal to make me,” Archer retorts, “but we both know that's a waste of time. Besides,” he says, his voice softening, “we've more important things to do.”

Archer is a sarcastic, unmanageable servant who should have been impossible to summon, given that Kariya has had no training, no experience, and a deep desire to run away from it all, and yet, he's there every morning when Kariya wakes, cooking, cleaning, and generally ignoring all of Kariya's plans.

Except for one.

“She'll be all right,” Kariya says, mostly to reassure himself. “She'll recover.”

Archer's face is never smug when he talks about Sakura, and Kariya really needs to ask him about that too, only Kariya has his own weight of guilt and sadness. He doesn't think he can bear another man's as well.

“She will,” Archer says. “She's stronger than you think.” He looks at Kariya. “Much like you.”

Kariya blinks. “Is that a compliment? I didn't think you were capable of them.”

“Don't get used to it,” Archer says. “I'm not in the habit of flattering my masters.”

It makes Kariya smile. “Wouldn't dream of it,” he says lightly, then he sighs. “I should probably go check the basement,” he adds. “Make sure--”

Archer puts his hand on Kariya's shoulder. “Eat,” he says. “Take a bath, get some sleep. I'll take care of the rest.”

“You don't have to--”

Archer's teeth flash sharp and white. “I want to,” he says. “You might call it a wish.”

Kariya nods. “All right.” He picks up his spoon, tastes the soup. It's perfect. “Don't stay down there too long.”

Archer's feet echo down the stairs.

Somewhere below him, Kariya's father has been reduced to nothing.

Which is exactly what Kariya feels.

It's wonderful.


End file.
